


Call Me "Bucky"

by Ava_Dakedavra



Series: A Winter Soldier's Tale [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Romance, Time Travel, i just want Bucky Barnes to be Happy, started as a oneshot became More, takes place during CA:WS, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_Dakedavra/pseuds/Ava_Dakedavra
Summary: Hermione Granger has been basically a glorified secretary at Shield for quite some time now, and she's less than thrilled. When she's given the opportunity to attempt to fix the Winter Soldier's memories, she's surprised by how...easy it seems?“Well, officially, I’d been wandering around the streets and causing a ruckus, so Shield took me in. They’d called you in to help with my memory, and you’d been studying here yesterday to prepare.”Well, that seemed about right, yet something was off. Hermione narrowed her gaze at him, and he seemed to grin wider at her glare. “And what about unofficially?”“Well, I do seem to remember something about being a brainwashed Hydra assassin with a metal arm three days ago.”





	1. Angel With a Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> i'm incredibly surprised by how much I love this ship and how many more stories I have planned for it. However, this is the most pressing one. It was supposed to be a oneshot. I have 38 pages. It's no longer a oneshot.

Hermione Jean Granger led a quiet, mostly benign life. She’d uprooted her life in London to take what she assumed would be an exciting job in New York, one that went hand in hand with her skillset and her moral beliefs. 

 

Or, so she thought - where she had assumed she would be on the frontlines, her strategy skills and knowledge put to good use, she was instead filling out the most mind-numbingly boring paperwork day after day. The most excitement that had happened had been in 2012, when aliens attacked New York City and the Norse god of mischief had been running around, but that was the week she’d taken off for the Potters’ baby shower and she’d returned home absolutely  _ pissed. _

 

It seemed that all of the exciting things happened to her coworkers - Phil had been tasked with keeping track of the Avengers, a team that Natasha and Clint had apparently joined, and here she was, a literal witch, fighting with copy machines and paper shredders. She supposed it served her right, wishing for mundanity in her teenage years as she fought against dark wizards for her life. Well she got mundanity, and she got it in spades. 

 

“Granger,” Maria Hill said, popping in the doorway of her office and politely knocking on the frame, despite the door being open in the faintest hope that someone would happen by with something interesting. She’d had no such luck so far. “You free?” 

 

“For lunch or something useful, yes,” Hermione drawled, Maria twitching a smirk back at her as she stretched her arms out and above her head. “If you’re dropping off more paperwork, then I’m swamped,” she said, despite her desk clean and the fact she’d been reading a weathered copy of the Hobbit for the umpteenth time. 

 

“Well, I’ll promise lunch after you help me,” Maria said, and Hermione instantly perked up. “Walk with me.” 

 

And so Hermione followed Maria, their heels clicking on the tile floors in sync, although Maria’s boots made a softer sound than Hermione’s practical office wear. Hermione hoped she would need a change in footwear with whatever it was that Maria was asking her to do.

 

After several hallways, security clearances, and wondering just where the hell they were going, Maria finally spoke, slowing her pace and causing Hermione to slow down to match hers. 

 

“In 1945, Steve Rogers went into the ice,” Maria recited, and Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She’d heard the story many times, as it was Phil’s favorite to tell, she was sure she’d know every detail by heart and in chronological order. She was so tired of hearing of Steve Rogers that she may just punch the man the first time she met him. If she ever met him. “But, earlier in 1945, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was pronounced dead.” 

 

At this, Hermione blinked - this was a deviation that she hadn’t expected. Phil always spoke highly of Sergeant Barnes, and would give updates on anything Steve Rogers would mention, such as his infantry unit or when he joined the army. Thinking back, Hermione wasn’t too sure why Phil had told her all of this - perhaps she was the only one in the office who was too polite to stop his eager, starstruck rambling about Captain America.

 

“In the beginning of 1945, Rogers, Barnes and the rest of the Howling Commandos embarked on a mission to board the Schnellzug EB912 train carrying Arnim Zola, a scientist for Hydra, with the hopes of capturing him and learning the plans of the Red Skull,” Maria continued, hardly missing a beat as they slowly walked down the long, blank corridor. “However, Sergeant Barnes fell from a train car, a height from which should have killed him.”

 

At this, the two women stopped, and faced each other. 

 

“He didn’t die, did he?” Hermione asked.

 

Maria gave a small smile before it turned into a frown. “He’d been captured by Hydra previously, and we assumed they’d administered a serum much like Captain Roger’s while he was there. After his fall, Zola took him and experimented on him - the new fist for Hydra - and wiped his memories clean.” 

 

Hermione’s stomach roiled, and she felt her face pinch up like it did whenever something upset her. “He became their weapon.”

 

“They kept him on ice, like Steve, and thawed him to kill whoever they wanted him to kill,” Maria finished. “They called him the Winter Soldier. Even fitted him out with a metal arm, since he lost his left one in the fall, making him the  _ ultimate _ weapon.”

 

“Does Captain Rogers know?” Hermione worried. 

 

“Steve’s been informed, but Coulson made the call that brought him here,” Maria said, walking towards the door ahead of them. “Steve’s visited, and helped where he could, but Sergeant Barnes remembers nothing of his old life.”

  
“He’s  _ here? _ ” Hermione exclaimed. 

 

“Which is why  _ you’re _ here,” Maria stated, and Hermione could’ve sworn the woman was chipper about it. “I’ve been put in charge with this, and I’ve decided to bring you along for the ride.” She lowered her voice, her frown deeper than she’d seen it, and whispered, “Coulson and Fury believe there’s moles in Shield, particularly ones from Hydra, and aren’t keen to let this information fall into the wrong hands. Cap’s investigating further, but there’s not much more I can say.”

 

The unspoken trust was there, and Hermione gave a solemn nod before cocking her head. 

 

“What, exactly, did you have in mind for me to do?” she questioned.

 

Maria straightened, and gave a smirk. “I read your file, and believe we’ve been extremely lax in allowing you to use your magical prowess for things other than filing. Namely, I read about the memory charms.” 

 

Hermione grimaced - she’d been reluctant to include it in her resume, yet when the Ministry had cleared her for the job application and given her the all clear to inform her future employer of her ‘talents’, they’d been sure to include every little thing they’d had on file for her. Which, unfortunately, included how she’d wiped her parents’ memories so clean of her that there’d been no way to undo it. “My experience with those have been less of what you’re looking for, I’m afraid.” 

 

“Well, lucky for you, there’s no blanker slate than Barnes,” Maria said, and with that, she swiped a key card by the door and ushered her inside. 

 

Inside the room was a large, glass enclosure that was lit up from multiple different angles, all casting harsh, white light at the man inside of it who sat in the middle, glaring at the guards that surrounded him. His dark gaze flicked to the two women when they entered, and it lingered on Hermione, before sliding away altogether, uninterested. 

 

“That’s - that’s not how this works,” Hermione tried, sputtering, “I’ll be messing around in his brain, in everything that they’ve locked away and everything that’s out in the open for him to recall. It’s - if I screw up, there’s no undoing it.” 

 

“So you’ll do it?” Maria questioned, arching a dull brow at her. 

 

“As if you’ve given me much choice,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

 

“Good,” Maria grinned, passing her the keycard and giving some sort of military hand signal that had the guards turn on their heel and exit the way they’d came. “Take your time - lunch is on me.” 

  
“It’s not a one day procedure we’re talking about here!” Hermione gaped, watching her retreat with the guards. “This is - I need to do research, study - I need to  _ prepare! _ ”

 

“Then study your new patient,” Maria said, hand on the doorknob and giving a polite smile. “That should be a decent enough start.” And, with that, Maria shut the door behind her, leaving her with a man turned assassination machine. 

 

“How rude,” Hermione huffed, glaring at the door and placing her hands on her hips. She wasn’t an idiot, of course, the room was bound to be heavily monitored even with the lack of guards present, but still. 

 

She heard another huff, and turned to the only other occupant in the room, and saw that his gaze was kept directly on her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, she imagined she would react the same if she were in his position. 

 

Hermione sighed, tugging her hair out of the harsh bun she kept it in for work, letting it spring to life and raking her hands through it to work out any knots. It’d already been giving her a headache, and she was sure she had a long day ahead of her. 

 

“Hello,” she said with an easy smile, taking a few steps towards the glass, “My name is Hermione Granger. I’m an agent here at Shield, but first and foremost I’m a witch.”

 

She watched as he blinked only once in surprise before his gaze became uninterested once more. She peered closely at him, and noticed that through the dark curtain of hair he was trying to hide behind was a stubbly beard. If he were from the forties, she was sure it and the long hair must be driving him nuts, even if he may not completely understand why. 

 

Hermione hummed, kicking off her shoes and sitting down in the floor in front of him, reclining back on the palms of her hands with a sigh, “As I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m supposed to be working on regaining your memories.”

 

He glared at her. She quirked a grin, and flapped a dismissive hand at him. 

 

“I won’t, not until the  _ both _ of us are ready for it,” she insisted, and snorted. “In all honesty, this wasn’t how I pictured my day going, but it’s still better than paperwork.” 

 

He gave a low hum, and she picked her head up at the sound. He was staring straight into her eyes, and it felt like into her soul, and she was surprised by how much it startled her. 

 

“If you’re going to mess around in my brain,” he began, speaking low and quiet. “I’d rather you just kill me.” It was such a hollow sound that it made her heart hurt. Someone should’ve done something, anything, to help this man before he got to this point.

 

She frowned, contemplating her next words, shifting so she was sitting properly. He continued staring into her eyes, so Hermione stared right back. “I will not be doing that, and I will not be inflicting any more damage upon you. If you don’t want your memories back, that’s entirely fine, but at least let me heal what I can.”

 

“Why? So you can send me on your own missions?” he asked, bitterly, his upper lip turning up into a snarl. 

 

“Not if I can help it,” she said, and she found herself thinking of Harry, who fought whatever fight he could if he thought it would save someone. Thought of people using that against him, when it was the best quality he had. “If you don’t want to fight anymore, I will make sure that no one will ever even think of asking you to. You have to work on healing, Sergeant Barnes - ”

 

“Who the hell is that?” he asked, loudly, and it startled her. She saw so much emotion in his eyes, so much anger and fear and frustration, and it made her hurt again. “Everyone’s coming in here, calling me that, asking me questions that I don’t understand, and I - I’m tired of it. So, like I said, lady, I’d rather you just kill me than make me remember  _ anything. _ ”

 

Hermione pursed her lips, staring at him as he glared her down, and stood primly. She retrieved her shoes, fixed her hair back into its bun, and walked to the door. Just before she swiped the key card, she paused, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

“Fuck you, bitch,” he called back. 

 

“My name’s Hermione,” she answered, swiping the card and exiting the room with a sigh, pressing her back against the door and staring back at Maria. “I want alcohol with my lunch.”

 

Maria’s gaze turned thoughtful, before she gave a hum and a nod. “I know a great place.”


	2. From Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky gets better, but Hermione isn't sure how...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babe, there's something tragic about you  
> Something so magic about you  
> Don't you agree?  
> Babe, there's something lonesome about you  
> Something so wholesome about you  
> Get closer to me  
> \- Hozier

The great place was a nondescript bar that looked as if it had once been a speakeasy, and Hermione was nursing her much needed adult beverage as she picked at her plate of chips. 

 

“So, what did you think of him?” Maria asked conversationally around her burger. “A ray of sunshine, right?”

 

“He’s in so much pain,” Hermione murmured, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. “He’s in so much pain that he’s an asshole, and I’m finding myself wanting to slap him while I help him.”

 

Maria gave a laugh, and Hermione lifted her hands to find the other woman smiling at her. “He’s lucky you’re not a quitter,” she said, and Hermione knew that it was mostly for her benefit. 

 

“Yeah,” Hermione hummed, taking a sip of her drink and contemplating all that he must have been through to lead him to this moment in his life. “I just...I just wish someone had helped him before, maybe he wouldn’t have had to go through all of this.” 

 

“Yeah, well, there’s no way to travel back in time and fix it,” Maria said with a shrug. “Fixing his brain is the best solution we’ve got.”

 

Hermione froze for half of a millisecond before scoffing, munching on the fried wedge of potato and glaring at the tabletop. “Can I use company time to hop across the pond? I need to brush up on my magical theory and see if there’s any similar case files.” 

 

Maria cast her a doubtful look and Hermione shrugged, knowing it was a long shot. “If you think it’ll help, go for it.” 

 

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening bouncing between St. Mungo’s and Hogwarts, speaking to healers and professors and gathering every scrap of information she could that seemed even remotely relevant. She went back to her apartment in New York to pass out on top of her bed, waking a few minutes before her alarm the next morning with a groan. 

 

She went straight back to where Barnes was held, traipsing her way through the corridors with minimal difficulty, tugging along several heavy books with her. She was intent to spend the entire day with him, hoping they could chat at some point, but she wasn’t about to sit down there with nothing to do if he decided to be tight-lipped. She’d even brought her copy of the Hobbit, just in case re-reading magical theory got boring. 

 

“Hello again,” she chirped upon entry, and blinked as all of the guards turned heel and exited, just as they had before, leaving her with the Winter Soldier once again. “Huh. Weird.” 

 

Barnes was silent again, and she set her stacks of books on the floor, conjuring a comfy chair to position next to it. If he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance of a large wingback chair, he didn’t let it show, merely watching as she hoisted herself into it, kicked off her shoes, and grabbed a book to read from. 

 

She felt him watching her for what had to have been several hours, but she remained focused on the passages she read, scribbling relevant notes and thumbing past sections that didn’t pertain to their situation. After a considerable amount of time passed, Barnes seemed to relax inside of his cell, shifting the slightest amount to get comfy, yet he still continued to watch her. 

 

Once she finished one book and started on the next, he spoke. 

 

“What are you reading?” he asked. 

 

She blinked, looking up at him and smiling, “Magical theory, mostly, just brushing back up on the basics. It’s been a while since I’ve done complex magic, I’m afraid.”

 

“Why?” he asked, slowly. 

 

She shrugged, regarding the page she was on and smoothing out a folded corner with her thumb. “I’ve moved to the Muggle - er, non-magical world, and my job here hadn’t required me to do anything other than fill out forms and file things.” 

  
“Until now,” he muttered, staring at the book in her lap. Hermione gave a soft smile and a shrug, yet said nothing more. She’d continued reading by the time he spoke again. “I’m not ready.”

 

“Neither am I,” she answered. 

 

He was quiet again, watching her, before he shifted and moved from his position in the center of his space to the edge closest to her, peering at the titles of the books written across their spines. “The Dark Arts Outsmarted? Defensive Magical Theory? The Healer’s Helpmate?”

 

“They have a thing for alliteration, don’t they?” she asked with amusement, glad to see him interacting with her in some capacity. It was a great deal of improvement from yesterday, and she hadn’t even waved her wand towards him yet. 

 

“Did you mean to alphabetize them?” he questioned dully. 

 

Hermione tried not to blush, because alphabetizing books had always come second nature to her, and she buried her nose back into the book she was reading. 

 

“What’s the Hobbit?” he asked upon receiving no answer. 

 

She blinked and sat up straighter, thinking everything through at least two or three times before standing, picking it up from the top of her stack, and holding it gently in her hands. 

 

“It’s got absolutely nothing to do with what we’re doing,” Hermione said with a smile before judging the height of the glass between them. Obviously tall enough that he wouldn’t be able to climb out, yet there was no ceiling attached to it. She levitated the book from her hands silently, having grown quite adept at wandless and wordless magic since she’d had so much free time to practice it, watching it soar up and over the glass and into his surprised grasp. 

 

“You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t read it, but I figured it might give you something to do in any case,” she said with a smile, sitting back in her seat as he stood and regarded the book in his hands. 

 

He faltered, looking between her and the book as if it were some sort of trick, but ultimately sat on his cot and began to read. After a moment or two, he spoke once more, “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she answered, and made sure not to use the name that caused him so much grief and confusion. This seemed to be the proper way to go about things, as she watched his shoulders relax as he settled down. 

  
They read in silence for the remainder of the day, and she let him keep the book when she departed for the evening.

 

She counted it as progress, and went to bed feeling successful. 

 

Hermione was completely at a loss, however, the next morning when she was accompanied to the room with Maria, chatting about nonsense such as the weather and if it would rain any time soon. 

 

“Oh, the guards are already gone,” Hermione remarked in surprise as they entered the room, and Maria halted and blinked and stared at her.

 

“Guards?” Maria questioned, even as she watched Hermione conjure another chair to read from. 

 

“Yes, they’ve stood all around for the past two days, but exiting whenever I’ve entered,” Hermione said before humming idly, “I thought it was me that made them leave, but I suppose it was all a part of their schedules.”

 

Maria continued to blink at her, and Hermione finally stopped her tasks to blink back at her. “There...Hermione, I haven’t stationed guards in here.” 

 

Hermione stared back at her, and scoffed, “Yes, you have, you did a weird little military wave and they walked right out on the first day.” 

 

Maria continued to look at her dubiously, yet said nothing more, mumbling something about clearance checks as she took her leave. 

 

“I remember the guards, if that helps,” Barnes said from his cot, reclining on his back with one ankle propped up on a knee, still reading from the Hobbit. 

 

Hermione blinked at his immediate chattiness, and gave a smile at seeing him so at ease. “Well, at least I’m not the only one. How are you today?”

 

“Peachy,” he scoffed, waving a hand at his enclosure and giving her a pointed look. She tried to keep from gaping at his liveliness, knowing that this surely wouldn’t have been her doing. “And you?” he returned politely. 

 

“Just...just fine, thanks,” she mumbled, easing into her chair and grabbing a book once he’d hummed, staring at the passages without really reading anything for a moment or two. 

 

“I’ve got a question,” Barnes announced, one arm pillowing his head as he propped the book up against his knees. 

 

“Maybe I’ll have an answer,” she replied, looking up at him as she waited. 

 

“I’ve never understood this, but why does Gandalf pick Bilbo to join the company?” he asked, sitting up and looking straight at her, setting the book in his lap. “He’s the homebodiest of the Hobbits, why choose him?”

 

“Oh,” Hermione blinked, surprised that she’d never imagined she would have a literary discussion with a brainwashed Hydra soldier that morning, and surprised even still by how his questioned had sounded, and hummed. “Well, I believe that while Bilbo may have seemed like he was more comfortable at home, that he was chosen because he actually wanted to get out of the Shire and go on adventures of his own.”

 

He hummed, thoughtful, nodding along before snorting and reclining against his cot again, picking the book back up and grinning, “Sounds like Steve.” 

 

Hermione dropped her book from her grasp, and gaped at him as he jolted up in surprise. “You - you remember Captain Rogers?” 

 

Barnes squinted, his mouth screwing up in confusion, “I don’t know about  _ Captain, _ pretty sure his dad never even made it to an officer, considering he died in the first World War.” Hermione’s jaw dropped further as he regarded her skeptically, “But, I was talking about Steve Rogers.”

 

She steadied her breathing, counted her heartbeat, and sat on the edge of her seat. “Could you, maybe, please describe Steve Rogers for me?” 

 

Barnes stared back at her, setting the book aside and staring her straight on. “He’s about five foot four, blonde hair with blue eyes, scrawny and sickly and never one to back down from a fight.”

 

Hermione had, of course, never met Steve Rogers before, but she’d seen pictures of Captain America and the words ‘sickly’ and ‘scrawny’ certainly never came to mind. 

 

She stood abruptly, ignoring her book in the floor, and spat out a “be right back” before exiting the room in a rush. 

 

She hunted down Maria Hill, who was sitting on the corner of Phil’s desk, and tugged her away to hiss the conversation she’d just had with Barnes at her. 

 

Maria, to her surprise, seemed  _ un _ surprised. “Well, yeah, Hermione, what did you think we were having you work on him for?” 

 

“What?” Hermione gaped. 

 

“Barnes doesn’t even remember up to his enlistment, so he definitely doesn’t remember fighting alongside Cap,” Maria said, staring at her in concern as she continued to stare back ather. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

Hermione swatted her hand away from checking her forehead for a fever, instead pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can I seen Barnes’s file? Please?”

 

“Sure, but it’s strictly confidential so I’ll be needing it back,” Maria said with a shrug.

 

Hermione followed her to her office, receiving the file and making her way back down to the room, her mind whirling as she flicked through the thick manila folder. There was a picture of Barnes, his hair shorter and a smile on full blast as he laughed at something Steve must have said, and she faltered at how different he looked before continuing on. 

 

“Ooh, is that mine?” Barnes asked from his cot, sitting on the edge of it and watching her pace. 

 

“As a matter of fact, it is,” she answered, casting him a strange glance before she got to the final page, this one printed where all the others had been typed, by a typewriter, on much older paper. It stated that James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant of the 107th Infantry and Howling Commando, had resurfaced in the present day, with more of his memory than he’d had two days ago. It mentioned nothing of Hydra, or their brainwashing, yet it did mention his first capture before he’d been reunited with Captain Rogers and joined the battlefield. 

 

“Anything interesting?” he asked, perching his chin on his fist and grinning lazily at her. 

 

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, it seems that - ”

 

“Call me Bucky,” he interrupted.

 

Hermione faltered altogether, dropping her hand and staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. He stared politely back, even quirking a bit of a smile back at her, and waited. “All...alright,” she whispered, feeling shaken by everything that was happening to her. “What...what do you remember, from the past three days?”

 

He pursed his lips in thought, thinking hard, “Well, officially, I’d been wandering around the streets and causing a ruckus, so Shield took me in. They’d called you in to help with my memory, and you’d been studying here yesterday to prepare.” 

 

Well, that seemed about right, yet something was off. Hermione narrowed her gaze at him, and he seemed to grin wider at her glare. “And what about unofficially?” 

 

He hummed, sitting back on the palms of his hands, and Hermione noticed that they were both flesh colored from what she could see beneath his jacket. “Well, I do seem to remember  _ something _ about being a brainwashed Hydra assassin with a metal arm three days ago.”

 

“Aha! I’m not insane!” she crowed before faltering, “Well, no more insane than you.”

 

“Ouch,” he quipped jovially, grinning at her still. “That hurts coming from you, dollface.”

 

Hermione blushed to her roots, sputtering and blinking and gaping as he winked cheekily at her, and finally settled on glaring with her hands on her hips. “My name’s Hermione.”

 

“Oh, I remember,” he purred, smirking back at her as he set his chin in his palm. “In fact, I think I may be remembering more than you.”

 

“What on earth does that possibly mean?” Hermione argued, trying not to shout even though she was having a proper freak out by now. 

 

“It means what it means,” Barnes - Bucky, he’d insisted - said with a shrug, still smiling back at her. 

 

“I’m going home early,” she grumbled, rubbing her temples as she vanished her chair and grabbed her other books. 

 

“Could you bring me something new to read tomorrow?” he asked eagerly before grimacing at her slow turn to look back at him. “Please? I’ve read the Hobbit four times now, twice since I’ve been here, and I’m bored.”

 

She sighed, readjusting her weight with the books, and gave him a weary smile. “Sure. Any specific genres or authors?” 

 

Barnes thought for a moment or two, obviously trying to choose wisely, before deciding, “Could you bring me some Agatha Christie? I remember her murder mysteries were always interesting.” 

 

“I’ll bring you as many as I can find tomorrow,” she promised, heading towards the door and growing surprised when she realized it no longer required a key card. 

 

“Thanks, dollface, see you tomorrow,” he agreed, beaming when she shot him another glare ruined by a blush before shutting the door behind her. 


	3. Morning Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even more things change, but this time Hermione finally figures out how. Bucky also gets smacked, which is honestly well-deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rain don’t change the sun  
> Jealous is the night when the morning comes  
> But it always comes  
> \- Delta Rae

Hermione, against proper protocol, kept Barnes’s file, setting it on her nightstand to check first thing the next morning. Which she did immediately upon waking enough to remember the previous day’s events, flicking directly to the back and gaping in surprise at what was written there. Instead of his memories needing healing, now he was being held at Shield for observation, as he’d just been thawed from the same ice Steve had been rescued from a few years prior. 

 

Hermione didn’t even bother dressing in her appropriate work attire, instead slipping on skinny jeans and a white t-shirt and flats, grabbing her badge, keys, wand, and the Agatha Christie books she’d promised him. She stomped down the creepy corridor that might have plagued her dreams last night, and gave an annoyed huff upon finding it entirely empty. She’d had to ask another agent where Sergeant Barnes had been moved to, and he’d shot her a very funny look before answering that he was in the infirmary in a private room, just as he’d always been since they’d dug him and Cap out of the ice. 

 

“Alright,” Hermione hissed as she entered his room, slamming the door shut behind her as he blinked at her in surprise from a 1940s recreation of a hospital bed. His hair was shorter than it had been, yet it was still long, brushing against his brow as it arched in surprise at her before he grinned. “Alright, whatever you’re doing just - just knock it off.” 

 

“Are those for me?” Barnes asked instead, pointing at the several books she had in her grasp. “Thank God, I’ve read the Hobbit  _ six _ times now.” 

 

“Ah-ah!” she chided when he made to reach for them, lifting them out of his immediate reach, but she was sure he could just stand from the bed at any moment and grab them. In the back of her mind she realized that this was the first time they were inhabiting the same space, and that she should maybe not be antagonizing him as she was. “No - you answer my questions, now.”

 

“Alright,” he said soothingly, and Hermione grit her teeth at the idea that she was being placated. 

 

“What’s going on?” she asked, clutching the books to her chest.

 

Barnes shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed now, dressed in a white shirt with beige slacks and barefoot, his feet touching the cold tile to make him hiss. “Well, officially - ”

 

“No, not officially, I don’t want to hear the officially,” she insisted, just knowing that her hair was getting bushier with her magic, judging by his amused glance cast to it. 

 

“Alright, unofficially,” he said, huffing a laugh at her, “Unofficially, things are changing around us.”

 

“ _ Obviously _ ,” she seethed, just wanting to take the books in her grasp and wallop some answers out of him. 

 

“I mean,” Barnes said with a pointed look to her, “Around  _ us _ , specifically.” 

 

Hermione stilled, processing that information, and lowered the books the tiniest bit. “Why?”

 

“Why, indeed?” he hummed in amusement, standing from the bed and stretching, his shirt rising up the tiniest bit to expose his abdomen, which Hermione resolutely did not look at. “So, dollface, any ideas?”

 

“Stop calling me that,” she insisted, finally smacking him in the arm with the murder mystery books. 

 

“Ouch, woman, I just got that one back,” he said with a pout, rubbing at the spot she’d made contact and shielding the arm from her with the rest of his body. 

 

“You don’t just - just grow arms back!” she yelled, glaring at him as she grabbed the books tightly to her, pacing around the smaller infirmary room. “Not without magic, and I haven’t done anything yet!”

 

“Yet,” he repeated casually, smiling when she halted and stared him down. “I can practically see the gears turning in your head, you know.”

 

“Shut up,” Hermione grumbled with a glare. 

  
“It’s there, I know you’re smart enough,” he goaded cheekily. 

 

“I’ll smack you again,” she threatened, and he retreated with a graceful laugh and his arms poised in the air by his head. She bit her lip as she thought, and he watched her, and she could  _ feel _ him watching her, so different from each time he’d done so previously. Now, she was very aware that he was flirting with her, and that was an entirely different  _ thing _ that she didn’t have time to unpack. So, she was ignoring him subtly checking her out while she thought. “I - we’re the only ones who know everything that’s been going on.”

 

“Seems so,” he answered cryptically. 

 

“That - if it’s what I’m thinking this is, that shouldn’t be happening,” she finally said with a huff, setting the books on the end table by the bed and finally freeing her arms. 

 

“Why not?” he questioned, leaning against the wall and watching her walk. She ignored the fact that he may have been watching her walk for reasons involving the thing she wasn’t unpacking just yet, and continued to mull things over. 

 

“Because, well, because that’s not how things work,” Hermione said, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt as she stopped to stare out of the window. They’d given him a great view of Manhattan, and she could see the Empire State Building and the Chrysler building easy enough. In the distance, towards the upper east side, she could see the Avengers tower, and wondered if Steve Rogers was having issues with his memory of the past few days. “Not with...not with….”

 

Bucky eased up behind her, his breath ghosting against the shell of her ear, and whispered the words she had trouble saying, “With...time travel?” 

 

She’d been fourteen when McGonagall had given her the time turner, expressing the rules of time traveling and the importance of not tampering with the past. She’d used it to save Sirius Black and Buckbeak, and had attempted to return it to the stern Gryffindor head of house. Yet the woman had refused to accept it, insisting she hold onto it to keep it safe from those who would use it for their own selfish reasons. The next year, Cedric had died at the Triwizard Tournament, and the year after had been the battle at the Department of Mysteries, where every single time turner there had been destroyed. 

 

Every single time turner in existence had been destroyed, except for hers. 

 

“Oh God,” she murmured, running her hands over her face as the reality of what was happening hit her. The idea had entered her head during lunch with Maria on the first day, and if she were being honest with herself it had never truly left. She’d wanted to fix him, to save him, before he went through everything he’d gone through and...well, apparently she’d done - or was going to do - just that. 

 

“Relax, Hermione, it’s alright,” Bucky soothed, gently grabbing her biceps and smoothing his thumbs across her skin. His hands were calloused and rough, and it made goosebumps pop up on her smoother skin. “Nothing’s, well, set in yet, if you still wanted to - ”

 

The door opened and he dropped his hands quickly, the two of them turning to look at Maria Hill in surprise as she poked her head in. 

 

“Hermione, there you are, Coulson wanted to know if you’d file some paperwork, he’s set it on your desk” she said, as if she hadn’t given her a special assignment involving the Winter Soldier and his memory a few days ago. She quirked her brow and glanced between her and Barnes, who’d yet to put a considerable amount of distance between the two of them. “What are you doing up here, anyway?”

 

“Ah, she’s just keeping me company, bringing me plenty of books so I won’t get bored,” Barnes answered easily, shrugging as Hermione blushed. 

 

“You could’ve asked one of the nurses,” Maria countered. 

 

“Yeah, but isn’t she the resident bookworm?” Barnes asked with a curious blink, “Or, at least, that’s what Coulson says. I wanted  _ old _ books, and who best to get them from than her?”

 

Maria hummed, conceding the point, and regarded Hermione once more. “Where the hell is your uniform?”

 

“Cleaners,” she muttered, still looking back at Bucky’s cheery demeanor that contrasted what he’d been saying just a moment ago. “Spilled a potion on it before coming in to work - I’ve got to go pick it up.” 

  
“Ah, well, it shouldn’t matter, you’re just doing paperwork,” Maria shrugged, and missed the wince that passed the British woman’s face. “I’d steer clear from Fury if I were you, though.”

  
“Thanks,” Hermione said, heading towards the door to follow her before pausing and looking to Barnes. 

 

She wasn’t that stupid, she was entirely aware of what he’d been saying before they’d been interrupted. And she was very sure that he knew more about her than he was letting on, which she’d like to get to the bottom of. 

 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised, watching him blink in surprise before his face lit up with a smile, and it looked so good on him that it brought a smile to her face too. “You know, with more old books.” 

 

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said softly, his eyes locked onto hers for what had to have been the hundredth time since they’d first met, filled with more emotions than she could describe. She wondered now, idly, when they’d actually first met. 


	4. Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione helps Bucky find a place to live...in a roundabout way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put me to the test  
> I'll prove that I'm strong  
> Won't let myself believe  
> That what we feel is wrong  
> I finally see what  
> You knew was inside me  
> All along  
> \- Beth Crowley

The next day shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did, because the universe seemed to have aligned perfectly for this exact thing to have happened. 

 

“You’re assigned to helping Sergeant Barnes find a place to live, since he’s recovered and ready to assimilate into our time,” Phil Coulson informed, although she was distracted by the smirking man that was leaning against the elevator wall behind him. He was dressed in a baby blue colored button up, the sleeves rolled up and his hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it, shooting her a wink when he caught her eye.

 

“Yes, sir,” she answered, trying hard not to glare at Barnes outright in front of Coulson. 

 

“Shield will cover whatever it costs, so don’t worry about that,” Coulson promised as the elevator dinged their arrival to the lobby. 

 

“Thanks, Coulson, I really do appreciate all of the help you’ve given me,” Barnes said, standing properly and shaking his hand before he and Hermione exited the elevator, the lobby, and the Shield premises altogether. 

 

“So, things I should know, if I’m going through with this?” Hermione asked amicably, leading the way down the sidewalk. 

 

“You’ll be plunked down in the final year of World War II, where things got really desperate,” Barnes recited, humming thoughtfully. “You’ll have to keep me and Steve from getting ourselves killed before our plane crash, which I wish you all the luck for because we’re idiots apart and numbskulls together.” 

 

“Lovely,” Hermione sighed, pulling her hair from the bun and watching as he eyed it longingly, making her eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “But won’t I just be there for a moment and then be able to pop away without a trace I’d ever been there?”

 

At this he grimaced, looking to the sky and away from her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “ _ Well _ \- if you didn’t pop into the middle of the fight on the train car, with not only me, Steve and Morita but also all of the Hydra agents we were fighting, then I’m sure that would’ve been possible.” 

 

“Ugh,” she huffed, wrinkling her nose as she climbed the steps to her brownstone apartment, bypassing the first floor and going straight to the second, opening the front door where she was greeted by Crookshanks screaming loudly at her. “Alright, so it won’t be a quick trip.” 

 

“I wouldn’t say it was, no,” he said behind her, shutting the door and looking around her apartment casually. 

 

“You wouldn’t…” she repeated before gaping, “You’ve lived through it, then?” 

 

He froze upon gazing at a picture she had on her mantel, one of her and Harry just after she’d accepted the job position that had brought her to New York, and slowly turned to look back at her. “Err….no?” 

  
Hermione settled her hands on her hips and glared, “Liar.” 

 

He blushed guiltily, and Hermione nearly smiled at the first blush she’d gotten out of him. “Well, in my defense, I’ve never been able to lie to you.” 

 

Hermione hummed, crossing her arms over her chest and thinking, “So that means - ”

 

“Stop thinking everything I say has some hidden meaning,” he insisted with a sigh, running his hands through his hair again. 

 

“Doesn’t it?” she questioned, “Give me one good reason to take you at face value, Barnes, and I will.”

 

He glared at her now, crossing his arms over his chest as well, “Call me Bucky.” She faltered, trying to read the look on his face, when he turned around and began inspecting her apartment again. “Besides, shouldn’t the fact that you’ve clearly done this mean you had to have trusted me a little bit?” 

 

“Not necessarily,” she said, and he groaned to the ceiling. “What?” she demanded harshly. 

 

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” he said, turning to shoot her a frown. 

 

“ _ I’m _ infuriating?” Hermione echoed in surprise.

 

He smirked, and arched a brow, “Good, glad we agree.” 

 

“If you think  _ I’m _ infuriating, you should meet yourself!” she argued, huffing and glaring at him. “I’ve had nothing but a massive headache since I met you, and not to mention that you keep - keep looking at me like you know something I don’t!”

 

“Well, I know lots of things you probably don’t, just as you - ”

 

“Oh, I’m going to  _ smack _ you,” she growled, advancing on him to glare up at him properly as he shot her yet another cheeky, smarmy, knowing look. “Plus, you keep staring at me, and don’t think I don’t notice, but I want to know  _ why _ .”

 

“You don’t  _ need _ to know everything, Hermione,” he insisted with a tired sigh. “Maybe I just think you’re pretty, you ever think of that?”

 

Hermione scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous. Just tell me the truth.”

 

“I’m not being ridiculous,” he scoffed back, glaring. “I  _ do _ think you’re pretty.” 

 

“Oh?” she asked, quirking a brow and settling her hands on her hips. “Prove it.” 

 

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at her. 

 

“Mmhmm, just as I thought,” she said, smiling smugly at him. 

 

His jaw set, and his brow arched, and Hermione was very sure that she’d done it now - whatever ‘it’ was, exactly, she wasn’t sure. The next thing she knew, however, was that she was being backed into a wall, and picked up, and being very thoroughly kissed, which wasn’t exactly what she thought was going to happen when she’d picked this fight, yet she kissed him back just as good as she got. 

 

Bucky had wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, cradling her head while he managed to wind a few strands of hair around his fingers, moving from her mouth when they needed to breathe and pressing kiss after kiss along her jaw and neck. All the while, he was holding her up with his other arm pressing her into him, keeping her nicely pinned between him and the wall. 

 

“Damn it, Hermione,” he groaned against her skin as she panted against him, confused as hell but not entirely displeased. “This is  _ not _ counting as our first kiss.” 

 

“It’s not?” she questioned in amusement, finding her own hands in his hair and liking the way he leaned into her touch, mouthing against her jaw as he worked on leaving marks against her skin. “Then that would mean - “

 

He growled and aimed for her mouth again, muttering against her lips to “Shut the ever living fuck up” as she laughed against him and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. 

 

This naturally led things to the bedroom, specifically her bed, and Hermione was left in thoughtful silence as she tried to organize her scrambled mind. 

 

“I can’t believe we did that,” Bucky said hoarsely, on the other side of her and with his face buried into her pillow, although he did keep one arm wrapped around her securely. 

 

“You can’t believe - you initiated it,” Hermione scoffed with a smile, running her fingers over her neck and humming at the tender spots, the other languidly tracing nonsense patterns across the forearm that was draped over her stomach. “Did I actually meet you with hickeys all over my neck?”

 

“I’m pretty sure you hid them,” Bucky said, raising up enough to eye them as well, although he seemed awfully proud of himself. “Magic, if I had to guess.”

 

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, catching her breath and looking up to the ceiling, trying to play out how the next day would go in her head. She knew she would be going back in time to the forties, and would need to pack, and figure out what she was going to be doing for so long in the forties if it wasn’t a quick trip. A traitorous, smug voice insisted that she would probably be doing the fine sergeant that was lying in bed next to her at that very moment, and she told that smug voice to kindly shut up. 

 

Still, that led to other thoughts and feelings, and more questions rather than answers. At least, answers that she could provide herself. She turned to look at Barnes -  _ Bucky _ \- and saw that he was lost in thought as well, following the path of his fingers as he traced the scars along her arm. He hadn’t even asked or batted an eye at them, which was also incredibly telling. Then again, she hadn’t asked about his either. Perhaps it was a courtesy that they’d extended to each other, yet she hadn’t been surprised by his scars because she’d known about their origin. She had a feeling he’d known about hers as well. 

 

“What were we to you?” she asked in a whisper after a long silence, waiting for his gaze to travel up to meet hers. 

 

He quirked half of a smile, brushing some wayward curls away from her face, and answered. “Whatever you want us to be.” 

 

Hermione hummed, stilling as he closed the space to press another kiss against her jaw. The kiss had a sense of finality, which seemed to scare her despite only having this one interaction between them. At least, the only one that she’d experienced so far. 

 

She caught him before he could pull away and retreat, kissing him softly and threading her hands through his hair once more. She found herself pulling him as close as possible, and Bucky seemed to find no problems with it, content to curl around her and sleep through the night as she meticulously planned before falling into a fitful sleep.


	5. New Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes back in time, leaving Bucky to hold down the fort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO - I wrote this before Endgame ever came out. This fic was mainly a "just for me bc who would ever read this lol" situation. So the things that you read here that you think I got from Endgame? I did Not. Thank you. 
> 
> Whoa, fever's running high  
> Burned off the demons in my mind  
> I'm seeing with fresh eyes  
> What we had was built on  
> Broken promises and hard-won love  
> And I don't want to lose it in these new days  
> \- Delta Rae

When morning came, Bucky was already awake and dressed, nearly finished with breakfast when she came wandering into the kitchen. Crookshanks was sitting on the counter by the stove and supervising, and Hermione found the scene a bit heartwarming as she stood by the entryway and watched. 

 

Bucky turned to Crookshanks, holding a piece of bacon fat between his fingers, the orange feline licking his lips and watching its every move. Bucky whispered quietly, “Alright, you can have some, but don’t tell - ”

  
“Don’t tell who, exactly?” Hermione questioned, and Bucky flinched at her sudden arrival, leaving him open to Crookshanks’ interception of the bacon fat. “I do hope you won’t be feeding him scraps the entire time I’m gone,” she said as Crookshanks ate his bounty and hopped off the counter to stride off to the bedroom. 

 

“In my defense, I thought you were still asleep,” Bucky said, quirking a grin at her glare. “When did you get so sneaky, anyway? I used to be able to tell exactly where you were at all times.” 

 

“Maybe you’ve let your guard down,” she hummed, hopping up onto the counter her cat had just vacated. “So. What do I need to know?”

 

Bucky sighed, monitoring the eggs and bacon as they cooked, although he reached into his pocket to offer her a scrap of paper. “Exact coordinates of the traincar when I fell, as well as date and time down to the second.” 

 

Hermione smiled, taking the paper and taking care to memorize it before tossing it onto the counter beside her. “And?” 

 

Bucky hummed thoughtfully, flipping the bacon in the meantime, “Always call Peggy Carter ‘Agent,’ never ‘Miss,’ even if everyone else in the room is.” 

 

Hermione grinned, having gathered as much - the woman would go on to become the founder of Shield, she deserved as much respect as possible. “Will do, then.” 

 

Bucky handed her a plate, and she thanked him with a kiss to his stubbly jaw before pulling out silverware to eat with, offering him some as well. “Don’t get mad when some of the Commandos give you nicknames, because that just means they like you, but if anyone else calls you something then you let one of the Commandos know and they’ll knock some heads together. Especially me.” 

  
“Interesting,” Hermione murmured, eyeing him carefully even as he blushed. 

 

“I know you’ll want to try to save me and Steve before we go into the ice,” he said, giving her a level stare, “Don’t. We’ll be fine, remember that.” 

 

Hermione fidgeted, knowing that the both of them would be losing so much just to those few decades - she seemed to recall, in the back of her mind, that Bucky’s mother and sister had been alive during the war, and she’d heard rumors about Captain Rogers and Agent Carter being an item. 

 

“I mean it, Hermione,” Bucky insisted, and she huffed at him before nodding, setting off to get dressed and pack. 

 

She’d had to make a few style alterations to her clothing, opting for more trousers than she was sure the ladies in the forties were used to, but she was about to dive headfirst into a war and wasn’t about to be doing that in a pencil skirt. Her cell phone rang on the nightstand by her bed, and she let it ring through. After she’d altered a few more clothes, it began to ring again, and Bucky poked his head into her bedroom. 

 

“What’s that noise?” he questioned. 

 

“Oh, my cell phone,” she answered with a hum, shoving everything she needed into her knapsack. She turned to look back at him, and he still seemed confused. “Portable telephone. Shield’s calling me - I didn’t call in to work.” 

 

“Won’t they get worried?” Bucky asked, leaning against the doorway as Hermione lifted up a dress and seemed to debate it. “Yes,” he answered, and she shrugged before tossing it into the knapsack as well. “You are a Shield agent, they could think something horrible happened to you.”

 

“Well, I have two theories about that,” she said as she strengthened her charms on her bag, adding several cushioning and durability charms to a pair of combat boots she’d conjured. “One - I’m just a glorified secretary, so they’re probably just thinking that I’m a mere no-show.” 

 

“And theory two?” Bucky asked, watching her transfigure the jeans she was wearing as well as the blouse. It made his heart ache to see her literally transform into the Hermione he knew so well, yet she wasn’t quite her yet. It’d take time, he knew, but he still missed  _ his  _ Hermione - the one who trusted him completely, who sought him out for comfort, rather than the one standing before him. He knew she trusted him some, given the fact that they’d slept together in every meaning of the term last night, but her walls were still up. 

 

“They’re calling because they already know what I’ve set out to do,” she said, and Bucky wondered for the first time if what she was doing was entirely legal. But she pulled her hair back, tugged on a navy blue peacoat, and smiled at him before fighting with the buttons. “What should I say to you?”

 

“What are you talking about?” he asked in amusement, moving to her and knocking her hands out of the way to button the coat for her, moving gently. He heard the hitch in her breath, and saw the blush rise to her cheeks, but bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at her. 

 

“When I meet you, of course,” Hermione answered, rolling her eyes and scoffing at him as she tugged on the knapsack. “I want to make a good first impression.” 

 

Bucky snorted in return, his gaze growing softer as he watched her pull on the golden chain with the hourglass pendant. He reached out, pulling her hair out from under the chain, cupping her face with his hands and smiling down at her. 

 

“Just say hi,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing she would do in her life, because it’d been the thing that had caused him to fall in love with her. Sure, saving his life and pulling him from certain death was all well and good, but seeing her standing there, wide-eyed and shocked at the turn of events, quirking a tiny smile and offering a bashful “hi” had really done it for him. 

 

Before she could snark or sass at him further, he pressed another kiss to her lips, this one much more gentle than those from the night before, feeling her sigh and relax into him. This was the part that he wasn’t sure he could get through, because while he knew what had happened to him in the forties, he still didn’t know what would happen to her. There’d been no proper record on her that he could find, and no mention of her with the Commandos, yet he hoped that this meant she’d been able to come back to her time, safe and sound. 

 

“Go,” Bucky whispered as they pulled away, and he was reluctant to let her go. He found himself quirking a small smile towards her as she blinked back at him in confusion. “Before I decide to be selfish,” he explained. 

 

Hermione breathed a laugh, stretching on her toes to press another kiss against his lips before quickly pulling away. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she said, hands poised and ready to turn the pendant before she stopped and glared at him. “Take care of Crookshanks - no table scraps.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning at her and even giving a mocking salute. 

 

She gave the necklace a couple of turns and popped away, and Bucky held his breath for a few seconds before he seemed to  _ feel _ the universe snap into place around him, memories shifting into their proper place, and understanding which events had taken place in this timeline, and which ones he seemed to have a faint memory of. 

 

Before he could even begin to miss her properly, there was a knock on the door. He nearly ran to it, opening it quickly before blinking at the postman handing him a letter and asking him to sign. 

 

Bucky regarded it carefully as he shut the door, as this could hardly be a coincidence, and ripped it open. 

 

_ August 13th, 1946 _

_ Sergeant James Barnes, _

_ It feels a bit strange, writing to you nearly a year after you and Steve fell into the ice. We weren’t particularly close enough to write when we were apart, but please know that I still consider you a very dear friend. Your presence is sorely missed, and not just by me.  _

_ Hermione’s assured me that you and Steve are very much alive and well, which is as much as I can hope for. She’s left me with so much to think about, which I’m sure you can understand. This time traveling thing...I didn’t quite believe it until I saw it for myself, felt what she’d changed and then felt it snap into place around me.  _

_ I’m sure you’re aware, but the war was over and won nearly a month after you and Steve fell into the ice. As such, Steve’s belongings went into my care, and yours returned to your mother. I’ve spoken with her, and she agreed to let me take care of them - she’s also such a nice woman, and she misses you and loves you very much.  _

_ Now, the part I’m sure you’re eager to get to - Hermione. She’s fine, and is set to return home to you soon, but she’s...well, you know the woman - she likes to fix as much as she can, once she’s determined. You’ll know soon enough, I’m sure. In any case, her belongings were also given to me for safe-keeping, as well as all documentation of her time here, which I’ve stored alongside yours and Steve’s. It’s actually all in Camp Lehigh in Wheaton, New Jersey. Ask Steve to take you - it’s the military base where he was stationed for basic training, although I doubt he’s forgotten.  _

_ I’m afraid I’ve come to the part of the letter where I have to stop writing, but I find myself wanting to tell you so much. You were always so easy to talk to, and I find myself thinking back on our few and far between conversations often. We’d just sit back and watch Hermione and Steve plot and plan to save the world, and I didn’t feel so alone back then, knowing that you understood how scary it was to watch sometimes.  _

_ You know, this entire year, I’ve been thinking how horrible it was that I didn’t get to say goodbye. Now that I have the chance, I find myself selfishly deciding that I don’t want to say goodbye at all.  _

_ So, Sergeant Barnes - Bucky - this isn’t a goodbye. It’s a goodbye for now, and I promise to see you soon.  _

_ Love, _

_ Peggy Carter _

 

Bucky reread the letter once more, glad that Peggy had always been so thoughtful about things and wishing he was able to write her back, to keep up correspondence. But then he frowned, wondering what Hermione was still doing in the forties a year after he and Steve had gone into the ice, because that didn’t make much sense at all. 

  
The door knocked again, and this time Bucky opened it to find Steve, who looked a little teary eyed and holding his own letter, but he was grinning when he saw Bucky on the other side of the door. 

 

“Didn’t you have a metal arm and memory loss the last time I saw you?” Steve asked, and Bucky immediately wrapped him up in a hug.

 

“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - ”

 

Steve broke away laughing, patting him on the shoulders and grinning, and Bucky knew all was forgiven. “C’mon, I heard you need a ride to New Jersey.” 

 

The ride was spent talking about each of their letters, how they’d both come from Peggy and dated the same day and year, and what to expect from Hermione’s planning. 

 

“The girl does know how to plan,” Steve said as they pulled into the drive of Camp Lehigh, the cloudy skies overhead and the late time of day making the place seem more desolate than it probably was. “I wouldn’t worry about her too much.”

 

Bucky hummed as they trekked around the camp, scoffing when Steve would point out things to lighten the mood. Why he thought “hey, that’s where I used my body as a shield for what I thought was a live grenade once” was an amusing anecdote, Bucky would never know, but he hoped that his griping would at least stick this time.

 

They’d made it further into the ammunition barrack, and discovered one of the first offices for Shield. Judging by the photo on the wall of Peggy, Howard Stark and Colonel Phillips, Bucky thought it might’ve been the first. Steve had been the one to unearth all of their belongings, and they’d spent a few hours going through everything. Bucky was glad to find all of his belongings before the war, going through a few photo albums and grinning at both their childhood and pre-serum Steve. 

 

It was hard to reconcile the idea of the scrawny, sickly version of his best friend with the larger than life soldier sometimes, but it wasn’t as if they were entirely different people. Steve was always, at his very core, the same. 

 

Bucky continued on, setting aside some of his old books and letters between him and his mother that he had kept to read later, pausing at the large film canister that he’d just unearthed. It’d been buried underneath a few boxes, labeled ‘Steve & Bucky’ in pretty handwriting.

 

“Hey, when did they take film of us?” Bucky asked, because although his memory was better it was still fuzzy in some places. 

 

“I’m not too sure, why don’t you play it?” Steve said, helping him set up the projector and clearing a blank spot on the wall. 

 

Bucky’s heart nearly stopped when he saw Hermione, sitting in a chair and fidgeting, biting her lip and looking up at whoever was filming her. 

 

“ _ Relax - it’s just Steve and Bucky _ ,” Peggy chided from off screen, and he heard Steve suck in a lungful of air at the sound of her voice. 

 

“ _ Right, right, _ ” Hermione sighed, calming herself before smiling at the camera. “ _ Hi. _ ” 

 

“Hi,” Bucky found himself echoing, staring at her as she fiddled with her hair. 

 

“ _ So - there’s a reason I’m not back yet _ ,” Hermione said, leaning forward in her chair, “ _ Before I left, I was told there was an infiltration of Hydra agents in Shield. Doing some digging, I found that they’d been present almost as long as Shield has been standing. I’ve been popping around to fix some things before I head home for good, and...err… _ ” She glanced to Peggy again, who sighed, and Hermione continued. “ _ And Peggy has some feelings about everything, but I wanted to explain myself. Also, if you’ve walked into this room and there’s not a giant computer system with the downloaded brain of Arnim Zola, then I’ve succeeded. _ ”

 

“ _ Hermione _ ,” Peggy called, and Hermione blinked up at her. “ _ Isn’t this dangerous? _ ”

  
“ _ Time traveling, or dealing with Hydra? _ ” she questioned, arching a brow and shifting in her seat once more. 

  
“ _ Both, either _ ,” Peggy insisted. 

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Hermione grinned, and laughed when Peggy huffed at her before turning back to her audience. “ _ I’ll try to be home soon. Try not to worry too much, alright? Stay safe. I love you. _ ” And with that, the film skipped before they were shown a few pieces of some Howling Commandos missions that hadn’t made it to the general public, watching their friends silently working together, laughing after a mission gone well, clapping each other on the backs and beaming. 

 

And there had been Hermione, the tiniest little thing who’d put up a hell of a fight, who’d been content to stand off to the side until Bucky had swept her into the middle of things, Steve welcoming her with a beaming grin and a side hug. Morita, Dum Dum, Falsworth, Dugan - all smiling, laughing, their band of brothers fighting side by side. Bucky wondered which of them had led things after he and Steve had gone into the ice, and decided it didn’t matter much anyway. 

 

The footage got shakey, and there was audio once more, and it looked like a communications center as the camera swiveled around to Peggy, leaning into the console with a headset pressed firmly against her ear. Hermione was close behind her, hovering and wanting to do something before the entire room heard the loud, deafening sound of static. Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and spilled a few tears, and Peggy remained stoic before she straightened herself and walked out of the room, her lips quivering.

 

Bucky and Steve were silent, continuing to go through their things with less chatter. They wound up packing everything into Steve’s car, and by the time they left Camp Lehigh it was well into the night. 

 

“Do you think…” Bucky began, cutting through the silence before letting it drop over them again. 

 

“I don’t know what to think, Buck,” Steve said, gripping the steering wheel tight, “Hermione can take care of herself, but...it’s Hydra. She only ever fought Hydra with us, she’d never fought them on her own.” 

 

Bucky nodded, as Steve had rounded up all of his worried thoughts nicely, and he continued to stare out of the window as they drew closer and closer to New York. “I mean, obviously, she did damn good.”

 

Steve quirked a grin, nodding along, “Damn Good Granger.”

 

It’d been the nickname the rest of the Commandos had bestowed upon her, and she’d worn the title like it was a badge of honor. Falsworth had occasionally called her “Kiddo,” and Bucky had been keen to use ‘dollface,’ ‘sweetheart,’ and similar pet names whenever possible, but to everyone else she was often just Granger. 

 

They turned silent again, this time feeling a bit better about things, and before they knew it they had returned to Hermione’s apartment. 

 

“Do you need help carrying everything?” Steve asked, hovering as Bucky grabbed a few boxes of files and his old knapsack. 

 

“Nah - I got it, thanks,” he said, catching Steve’s worried eye and halting. “What?”

 

“Err - just, uh. Well, if you didn’t want to stay here, you could stay at my place,” Steve offered. 

 

Bucky faltered, looking between Steve and the windows of Hermione’s apartment. At that time, Crookshanks hopped up into the window sill of one, staring down at him curiously, and he couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Thanks, but I need to be there.” 

 

Steve nodded, shutting the trunk of his car with one hand, “If you change your mind, just come over.” 

 

“Thanks,” Bucky said, moving towards the steps of the brownstone, “Hey, Steve?”

 

“Yeah, Buck?” he asked from the sidewalk. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” he asked, because even though everything had settled around them, Bucky was still afraid he’d wake up in the morning and have everything different once more. Maybe this time Steve wouldn’t be around, or Hydra would have control of him again, or - 

 

“Yeah, Buck, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Steve promised with a grin, “I’ll grab you around 8 and we can go check out some museums.” 

 

“Sounds good,” Bucky said, breathing a bit easier, “Night, punk.” 

 

“Night, Buck,” Steve answered, and Bucky retreated into the dwelling and up the stairs, opening the front door carefully and frowning when the apartment seemed silent. 

  
He set the boxes aside in the living room, tugging off his shirt and wadding it up into a ball to throw in frustration at the couch cushions. Crookshanks seemed to think this was a game and dove across the apartment to pounce on it, which did make Bucky huff a laugh. 

 

“I’ve never seen him be that athletic before,” a voice said in surprise, and Bucky whirled around to gape at Hermione as she stood in the doorway of her bathroom, toweling off her hair as it dripped onto her large white t-shirt, the hem of it skimming the tops of her thighs. Hermione grinned up at him in amusement, laughing when he scooped her up in his arms and held her tight. “What took you so long?” 

 

“What took me so - what were you doing in 1946?” he countered, pulling away enough to glare down at her. 

 

Hermione grinned, wrapping her arms around him and setting her chin on his chest, “Oh, you know. Kicking Hydra ass, setting the foundations for Shield, convincing Peggy to come to the future with me.” 

 

Bucky gaped back at her, and she gave a laugh at his surprise. “Does Steve know?!” 

 

She hummed, stepping back to attempt to dry her hair once more, ruffling it with the towel before giving a quick wave of her hand to dry it proper. He’d notice that she didn’t use her wand as much in the forties, and she hadn’t produced it now. “Considering I dropped her off at his place, I sure hope so.” 

 

Bucky found himself backing her into a wall and kissing her, just as he had the night before, but this time she was less surprised and more relaxed, sighing into him and practically melting into his arms. She’d only been gone for a day from him, but the last time she’d seen him had been a full year by the sounds of things, in the middle of a war.

 

“I missed you,” Hermione whispered once he pulled away for air, and he saw her eyes well up with unshed tears. “I knew you were alright, I just - ”

 

“I know,” he soothed, pulling her to his chest and breathing her in, smelling how fresh and clean and  _ Hermione _ she was. He’d gotten his version of her,  _ his girl _ , back. If he weren’t trying to be strong for her, he’d be crying. “I missed you.” 

 

“I love you,” she murmured into the skin of his neck, and Bucky seemed to release a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. If a few tears slipped out, neither of them mentioned it.

 

“I love you,” he answered, chasing her lips again, content to hold her close and hold her tight for the rest of the night. 


	6. Hold My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione comes home, and Bucky needs a pen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dreaming 'bout us  
> Working hard and saving it up  
> We'll go and see the man on the moon  
> My girl we've got nothing to lose  
> \- George Ezra
> 
> (Don't forget to read the notes at the end!)

When he awoke in the morning, it was to that annoying, robotic ringing that the cell phone produced. He was quick to grab it, glancing to his side to find Hermione still sound asleep beside him, curled up in her sheets and blankets and with Crookshanks nearby. 

 

He took the offending gadget out into the hallway, taking a wild guess that the green button would be the best way to go about things, and held it up to his ear. She had said that it was a phone, after all. 

 

“Hello?” he groused, his voice still husky and deep from sleep. 

 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve answered on the other line, chipper and cheery and far too awake for...what time was it, anyway? “So, about our date.”

 

Bucky scoffed, leaning against the wall so he had a clear view into the bedroom, watching Hermione sleep even as the sunlight filtered in from the windows, climbing across the floor in an effort to reach her. In about an hour, give or take, it would hit her face, but for now it was reaching for the quilt that hung an inch or two above the floor. “Are you flaking on me, Steve?” 

 

“Just this time,” he promised with a laugh, “Somehow, I don’t think you’ll mind.”

 

He laughed in response, sure to keep it quiet, although Crookshanks did turn his head towards him and give him a sleepy blink. “Just this time,” he echoed, smiling as he watched Hermione shift, reaching her arm out across the mattress for him. Her brow furrowed when she couldn’t find him, yet she remained dead asleep. He wondered when the last time she’d gotten a decent night’s sleep on a decent mattress was. 

 

“How’s she doing?” Steve asked, quietly. 

 

“Exhausted,” Bucky said before breathing, “But she’s home.”

 

“Good,” Steve said before humming absently, “Just so you know, she’s my favorite person as of right now.”

 

“Really?” Bucky said in surprise, “I thought Peggy would be, for some reason.” 

 

“You’ve been demoted, Buck,” Steve continued. 

 

“I’ll live,” he scoffed. 

 

“You should be crushed,” Steve insisted. 

 

“I’m devastated,” Bucky deadpanned. He scoffed again, “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

 

“Talk to you later,” Steve promised, and he thankfully hung up the call so Bucky wouldn’t have to figure out how to do that.

 

He walked back to the bedroom, setting the phone on her dresser and crawling back into bed as quietly as possible, wrapping an arm around her as she shifted closer. 

 

“How’s Steve?” she mumbled, eyes still shut. 

 

Bucky huffed a laugh, kissing the side of her head, “He’s good. You’re his favorite person, by the way.”

 

“Yesss,” she hissed with a smile, burying her face into his chest with a sigh. “I’ve got to report to Shield at two,” she mentioned, with the sort of tone of voice someone might use in reference to going to the dentist for a root canal. 

 

“It’s barely seven, you’ve got plenty of time,” Bucky soothed, rubbing circles into her back. “Try to go back to sleep.” 

 

Hermione nodded, shuffling deeper into the layers of sheets and blankets and quilt, and reached out to grab his forearm so she wouldn’t lose track of him in her sleep. 

 

He let her drift off, content to watch over her, and grinned when her eyes opened once more as she lifted her head to press her lips against his. 

 

“Good morning, by the way,” she said with a smile, and he laughed as he let her play with his hair to tug him closer, apparently determined to get him to sleep more as well. 

 

“Good morning,” he responded, pressing a kiss against her neck as he settled into her. “Go to sleep,” he urged once more, smiling when she giggled before quieting, her breathing evening out soon enough. 

 

Careful to not lean into her too much and squish her, Bucky laid overtop of her, playing with her wild curls and amusing himself as he counted her freckles. 

 

He later found himself with his face pressed into the pillow, opening his eyes and stretching as Hermione tried to shield her face from the sun with his arm to no avail. 

 

They eventually got up, made a late breakfast as she caught Bucky up to speed with what she’d been up to just before returning home. Apparently, she’d managed to infiltrate and destroy the last major Hydra headquarters, and although it meant that Hydra would no longer be a threat in the future, it had painted a giant target on her back.

 

“Peggy said that the only way to avoid having to look over my shoulder forever would be for me to disappear without a trace,” Hermione said as she made eggs, Bucky standing nearby and holding Crookshanks close to his chest as he listened. “That’s when I told her I could travel through time, and had been in order to gather information. She didn’t seem as surprised as I thought she would, and we’d realized that what I’d been changing had been affecting Peggy, like it had with you before I left.”

 

“Is that how you knew to bring Peggy here? To Steve?” Bucky asked, scratching Crookshanks behind the ear and getting a decent purr from him. 

 

“Well,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, and made a face. “That’s how I knew it was an option. I’d packed a few files from Shield before I left, just to check any information that changed, and the parts about Peggy were always unclear. Some days it would say that she stayed in the forties, married, had kids and grandkids, but others it would say that she would mysteriously vanish and leave Howard Stark - you remember him, right? - in charge of Shield. So, I gave her the option and let her waffle with it for a few months before I finished my mission.” 

 

“And she chose to come home with you,” Bucky summarized with a hum. 

 

“I do think she came to change things with the way Shield is being run, because she was none too pleased with what I did tell her,” Hermione admitted, although she was smiling. “But her getting Steve was just a bonus.” 

 

“Well, Steve getting his gal and you having your friend is a bonus for me, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple and smiling when he heard her hum. 

 

Hermione left for Shield begrudgingly, and shortly after she was gone Steve had shown up at the door. 

 

“Do you live here?” Steve asked upon Bucky opening it, looking at him in amusement. 

 

“Does Peggy live with you?” he countered, smirking when Steve’s smile turned to a confused grimace. “Don’t ask questions if you don’t want questions, Steve.” 

 

Steve entered the apartment, stooping down to allow Crookshanks to sniff his hand and deem him worthy, flopping onto the couch gracelessly. “Where’s Hermione, anyway? Wanted to thank her a million times over while Peggy was at Shield.” 

 

“Also at Shield,” Bucky answered, plopping into an armchair and grinning when Steve snorted in amusement. “How’d last night go?” 

 

Steve grinned dopily, staring up at the ceiling and barely lifting his head when Crookshanks jumped directly onto his stomach to begin a steady purr and kneading him. “We danced.” 

 

Bucky quirked a brow, grinning back at him, “Is that newfangled slang or something?” 

 

Steve threw a throw pillow at him, fulfilling the pillow’s destiny of being thrown, and Bucky erupted into cackles as he caught it and saw Steve’s blushing scowl. “We just  _ danced _ . And talked, forever, about everything.” 

 

Bucky smiled, glad to see Steve genuinely happy, and clutched the throw pillow to his chest. “Sounds nice.” 

 

Steve smiled back, probably glad to see Bucky happy, and pet Crookshanks languidly. “It is nice.” 

 

The two chatted for an hour or two before Steve received a...message...on the cell phone, telling him to head to Shield and bring Bucky. Bucky had been reluctant, as he still wasn’t sure if what Hermione had done was technically legal, yet got in the car with Steve anyway. 

 

Upon arriving at Shield, they had been whisked to an elevator, up a few floors and to a large conference room. Seated already were a redheaded woman, reclined back in a chair with her feet on the table, and a man with a hoodie drawn up around him, asleep with his face against the table. 

 

“Hey, Steve,” the woman said with a nod of her head, grinning when he smiled and made his way towards her. “Still mad at me?” 

 

Steve faltered, blinking at her, “Why would I - ?” It seemed to click, and Steve glared at her. “Yes, actually, but I’m not letting it ruin my good mood.” He pulled out the chair beside her to sit and snorted when she dropped her feet from the table to his thigh. 

 

“Smart,” the sleeping hoodie said as he woke up with a yawn, stretching out to blink blearily at each of them. “Don’t give Nat the satisfaction of knowing she made you mad for longer than ten minutes.”

 

“See, that’s difficult, because Steve loves to hold grudges,” Bucky hummed, making his way to the open seat next to Steve, across from the hoodie man. 

 

“I do not,” Steve tried to defend.

 

“You were mad at Dum Dum for a month because he called the Yankees shit,” Bucky insisted. 

 

“He was rooting for the  _ Mets, _ ” he stressed. 

 

“Ah, there’s the grudge,” hoodie man said, sitting up with a tired smile and pulling the hood off to show off sandy blonde hair that seemed to stick up in every direction. “I’m Clint, by the way.” 

 

“Natasha,” the redhead said. 

 

“Bucky,” he responded before settling back in the chair to look around the room. It was a pretty bland conference room, so it didn’t take long. “What’re we here for, anyway?” 

 

“We’re waiting on the others,” Natasha said with a shrug, “Most are coming in from out of town, so we’re waiting a bit.” 

 

“Others?” Bucky questioned. 

 

“Did Steve not tell you about his day job?” Clint asked with a grin. 

 

Steve grimaced at Bucky’s questioning stare. “Err - it hadn’t come up.” 

 

Bucky was about to open his mouth, to yell at him for doing something stupid (it’s Steve - he knew it had to be stupid) when the door opened and two more men entered, one in a blazer and a button down and the other in a t-shirt with a glowing circle on his chest. 

 

Both stopped talking, looked to Bucky, and blinked. 

 

“Is that why we got called in?” the man with a glowing chest asked. “Has our boyband gained another member?” 

  
“What is he talking about?” Bucky asked, turning to Steve. 

 

“Ignore Tony, he just likes to hear himself talk,” the other man said, smiling politely at him. “I’m Bruce.” 

 

“Where’s Thor?” Natasha questioned. 

 

Bruce shrugged, leaning against the wall behind Clint, “Asgard, if I had to guess. I doubt he got the text, so I’m pretty sure he won’t be here.” 

 

Natasha hummed and Clint nodded, and Tony had eagerly bounded over to the conference table itself instead of taking a chair.

 

“So - what’s your story?” Tony asked, sitting on the table in front of Bucky and encroaching on his personal space. “Mad scientist like Bruce and I? Secret agent like Natasha and Barton?” 

 

“Stark, lay off on him, alright?” Steve warned, glaring at the other man. 

 

“Stark?” Bucky parroted, looking back to the man in front of him and placing the familiarity. “Like - Howard? Holy shit, you’re Howard’s son!” 

 

The man grimaced at the reminder before lighting up, looking to Steve, and arching a brow, “So...a soldier like Capsicle?”

 

Steve gave a lengthy sigh, dragging his hand over his face, and gave a tired look. Bucky would’ve felt bad, but then again Steve had been making him do that for about a decade. It was about time he got a taste of his own medicine. “Stark, meet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th and Howling Commandos.”

 

“No shit,” Stark said with a massive grin, shaking Bucky’s hand as the other three blinked in surprise at each other. “You think I wouldn’t recognize the man? My old man told me stories of the Howling Commandos whenever he was feeling generous. Welcome aboard, Barnes.” 

 

“Aboard  _ what _ , exactly?” Bucky questioned for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

 

“The Avengers,” a British voice announced, the two British brunettes entering together and grinning as they stood side by side. Peggy was as polished as she’d always been, dressed in a baby blue blazer and a black pencil skirt. Hermione stood beside her, her unruly curls free as she stood in her black tank top and jeans. “A team of people with extraordinary talents tasked with protecting the earth from unprecedented threats.” 

 

Tony seemed to look starstruck at the two women, and opened and shut his mouth before his hand shot up into the air like an eager kindergartener. 

 

“Yes, Anthony?” Peggy asked with a grin. 

 

“Oh,  _ please _ tell me how each of you got here,” he begged with wide eyes, “Because I know about Capsicle, and I’m sure on file Barnes was dug out of the ice as well, but that doesn’t explain Agent Carter and Damn Good Granger standing in this room.” 

 

“Oh, good, my nickname made the press,” Hermione said with a grin, making her way to Bucky and pressing a kiss to his cheek, surprising him. Public displays of affection wasn’t something they’d necessarily done in the forties, so to see her do it now was…nice. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, seeing Steve grin at them out of the corner of his eye.

 

“For those of us who aren’t Howling Commando fanboys like Tony,” Natasha interrupted, taking her feet off of Steve’s lap. “Could we maybe get some introductions?” 

 

“Of course,” Peggy promised, sitting next to Clint, who sat up straighter and gave a worried grimace as she did so. “My name is Margaret Carter. My friends call me Peggy. Up until yesterday, I was the Head of Shield at its early stages, until I passed it off to Howard Stark. Now that I am here, however, I will be assuming a managerial position over the Avengers.” 

 

“So are you replacing Fury? What’s the ranking here?” Bruce asked, making motions with his hands as though he were trying to slot her in some invisible ordering system. 

 

Peggy pursed her lips, thinking, “I’m not replacing Director Fury, no, and I think of us as equals, so consider it...co-directing.” 

 

“And you?” Natasha asked, looking to Hermione. 

 

Hermione grimaced, looking to Peggy, and sighed. “My name is Hermione Granger. I’m a witch, and it’s a long story…” 

 

She wound up sitting down and recounting the events that had led up to her going back in time in the first place, leaving out all of the bits involving how Bucky had been a tortured assassin, which he appreciated as he’d wanted to make a decent impression on these people. 

 

Tony and Bruce were skeptical about magic, but after a quick demonstration on levitation that had Clint  _ rolling _ with laughter by the looks on their faces, it was resolved relatively quickly. Natasha was interested in hearing stories of how Hermione had been the only woman on a team of men in the 1940s, and they promised to grab coffee with Peggy and recount details at a later date. 

 

“Presently, there are a few more decisions that needs to be made,” Peggy said as they wound down, opening a folder and passing it across the table to where Hermione and Bucky were seated. “Do you two want to be Avengers? We’ve already signed on Sam Wilson, and I believe a few others are up for consideration as well, yet they’re far less pressing.” 

 

Bucky blinked, staring at the contract laid before him, and turned to look at Steve. “You’re one, right?” 

 

Steve nodded, having remained silent throughout the conversation other than to add a few jokes to lighten things. 

 

Bucky looked to Hermione, who was mulling over the idea herself. “What do you think? You’ve just gotten out of a war and out of an ongoing fight with Hydra.” 

 

Hermione sighed, chewing on her lower lip, and looked at the contract as well. “Well, as much as I’d love a bit of a vacation, I don’t see me going back to being a glorified secretary. I’d like to, but...”

 

Bucky nodded, understanding that she was hesitant to join if he wouldn’t be there. They seemed to work better as a trio, Bucky balancing Steve and Hermione whenever they would get too caught up in the grand scheme of things. He’d always been the one to get them to take it piece by piece, that the smaller things were necessary for the big picture and to celebrate every little victory. 

 

He took his time, skimming over the details of the contract before shrugging, finally looking up to where everyone was watching him. “Anyone got a pen?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't a grand finale sort of ending, but that's mainly because I'm still playing in this alternate universe that I've created! I'll be posting a prequel of sorts shortly, as I wanted to see their first meeting, first kiss, first everything and Hermione as a Howling Commando as much as you do! And any other oneshots or other short stories that come to mind will be tied in to this as a series.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who read, left a kudos, subscribed or bookmarked this fic! I'm sure you'll see me in the Bucky/Hermione tag often, as I've found myself absolutely in love with this ship.  
> Until next time! <3


End file.
